


I'm Not Broken

by randomwriter57



Series: makoharu week 2016 [3]
Category: Free!
Genre: Asexual Character, Confessions, M/M, Pansexual Character, Self-Acceptance, is this self-projection, just wait until later in the week lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 09:40:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8097268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomwriter57/pseuds/randomwriter57
Summary: There's always been something wrong with Haru. That's what people tell him, and more often, what people don't tell him. But maybe they’re wrong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [MakoHaru Week 2016](http://makoharuweek2016.tumblr.com), Day Three: Favourite Headcanon.

There's always been something wrong with Haru.

That's what people tell him, and more often, what people _don't_ tell him. Instead of saying it outright, they say it with their bodies; they say it with a roll of the eyes and a quirk of the brow. Somehow, it hurts more when they don't say it outright.

Haru's always known that he's different. The way he loves the water, loves feeling and sensing it around him, loves the gratification it gives him - it isn't the same for other people. Even his humour and the way he understands the world seem odd to people. People avoid him because of what others have said about him.

What Haru finds the strangest about himself is that he doesn't understand his own emotions. His misunderstanding can go on for years. It's probably why, when he was younger, it took him a while to realise that he was lonely after Rin left, when they could no longer swim the relay as their group of four.

Perhaps that's why Haru thought he was broken.

As they grew up, the people around him changed. In the blink of an eye, happy-go-lucky children who were interested only in pokemon and card games became older, more outright. Their interests changed. Suddenly, all the boys were bringing magazines to school, talking about girls, girls, girls. Not just girls in general - naked girls, girls they wanted to kiss, girls they wanted to do _other things_ with.

Haru never understood them.

Most of his middle school life is a blur, and he can barely remember the days between the big events: racing against Rin, his grandmother's death, his parents moving to Tokyo, and the beginning of their second year of high school. Every other day is the same in his mind. Get up, go to school, go home, go to bed. Repeat.

That could be why he doesn't notice the change until much later.

He noticed Makoto beginning to change. He remembers the day Makoto began to refer to himself as 'ore', and the days in their first year of middle school when Makoto was like a different person. After the race with Rin, though, the changes are less memorable. Sometimes now, years later, he is shocked by how much Makoto has changed. His height. The width of his shoulders. His courage.

Of course, Makoto must be interested in girls, too. After all, he blends with the others. He fits in. He must have thought about the girls in magazines, the girls he wants to kiss. The girls he wants to do other things with.

The thought tastes bitter on his tongue.

Something must be wrong with Haru. He's never thought about that kind of thing. Looking at girls now, he doesn't see anything special. They're just people. And it can't be that he's gay, either, since looking at guys doesn't make him feel anything, either.

To be frank, he just can't see the appeal of sex.

Men and women don't interest him. He can't imagine himself in such an intimate position with anyone. Any time he's been asked which underwear model is his favourite, what is he supposed to answer when they all look the same, all equally unappealing?

Does Makoto have a favourite?

It takes a long time for Haru to settle with the idea that he's different. Maybe he just didn't develop properly. Something is missing that everyone else has.

The subject isn't one that comes up in conversation. With his friends, and especially with Makoto, they talk about swimming. Sure, Nagisa will sometimes talk about models or flirt with Rei in a way which makes him blush, or Rin will complain about some guy hitting on Gou. But with Makoto, Haru can't recall ever talking about anything like that. Girls. Love. Sex.

Society's biggest interests are Haru's biggest nightmares.

Alone, in Makoto's bedroom, after school, he has no idea why he's thinking about these things. Makoto is in the shower, and the victory screen of some RPG blares on the TV in front of him. Leaning against the bed, sitting cross-legged on the floor, he looks up at the ceiling.

Has Makoto ever imagined having sex?

Has Makoto even had a girlfriend?

Somehow, it's something he doesn't know about Makoto. It's shameful, to think he, the person who's known Makoto for longest, doesn't even know if he's ever had a girlfriend. Surely that should be something that would come up in conversation. Something important.

Does Makoto have someone he likes?

Haru knows there are girls who are interested in Makoto. He sees them around school. They don't even try to hide it. They blush and flirt with him and Makoto replies with polite kindness, seemingly oblivious.

Does Makoto ever feel the same way?

Without thinking, Haru touches his lips. Could he imagine someone kissing them? Could he imagine kissing someone with them?

Would he kiss Makoto with these lips?

The thought pops up out of nowhere, and he blinks, suddenly awake.

Makoto?

Is that the answer? Is there some kind of attraction where there's only one person you'll ever like?

Isn't this what people call a soulmate?

But it can't be right. No matter how hard he tries to imagine it, his body so close to Makoto's connected in the most intimate way-

He can't. Even with his level of creativity, the image doesn't come.

But kissing Makoto, he can imagine. He can practically feel those lips, soft and warm, pressed against his own. He can imagine waking up with Makoto beside him, spending every day in each other's company, huddled in an embrace. He just can't imagine them having sex.

Well, this is a predicament.

Taking out his phone, he turns on the internet and searches.

_Why can't I imagine having sex?_

Thousands of results pop up, most of them bearing one word in common: asexual.

Suddenly, Haru finds himself in the depths of the internet, learning words he never thought existed until now. New terms for sexuality, and even a whole other type of attraction, romantic attraction, a whole other spectrum of love. His mind bursts with colour, thoughts crowding it, revelations flowing like waves, one after the other, overflowing.

The answer is in front of him, spoken by so many who feel the same way he does.

He isn't broken.

He's asexual.

And when he looks into it, he thinks, maybe he can feel romantic attraction, but not sexual attraction. He isn't romantically attracted to most people, though. Just one.

Demiromantic.

He is asexual and demiromantic.

For the first time in his life, he feels understood. A light has turned on in his mind, and he gets it.

"Haru?"

A voice breaks into his thoughts, and he looks up from his phone. In front of him stands Makoto, a puzzled but smiling expression on his face. His hair drips water onto the shoulders of one of his favourite t-shirts. His skin is rosy with heat, and his eyes are full of calm.

Haru's skin is warm, his body buzzing but relaxed at the same time. At this point, he feels like anything could happen, and he'd be happy. Looking at this person, and knowing what he now knows. Knowing that he and Makoto are going to Tokyo together. Knowing that he and the person he likes - loves, even - won't be separated. His heart bursts.

Is this what attraction is like?

"It's your turn for the bath." Makoto stretches a hand out to him.

"Okay," Haru says, taking Makoto's hand.

Makoto pulls Haru to his feet. For a second longer than he should, Haru holds on. Then he lets go.

"Did something good happen?" Makoto says. "You're smiling."

Haru wonders, for a second if he should say something. But then again, this is important. He wants to accept it, to embrace it. Besides, wondering about how Makoto feels is important, too. He has to allow time for that, as well.

"Not really."

With that, Haru heads for the bathroom, feeling more uplifted than ever before.

 

* * *

 

Haru is a fool.

In the euphoria of his discovery, he hadn't considered Makoto's feelings.

Luckily, he hasn't said anything. He's glad he said nothing before taking this bath. Now, in the calming water, he realises that it would have been his dreadful mistake if he had.

After all, Makoto must like girls.

There's no way Makoto knows about these terms which Haru only found out about today. He is so likely to stick to the straight-and-narrow, there's no way he'd be anything other than - well, straight. As much as Haru loves to imagine Makoto loving him in an intimate way, there's no denying that he will probably find a girl, get married, and have children. They'll lead a happy life.

Oh, what a cruel fate Haru is resigned to. Only minutes after discovering his emotions, he is struck by the fact that they will never be reciprocated.

And even if, by some happenstance, Makoto is anything but straight, what are the chances of him liking Haru in that way? Makoto has always been reserved in affection, though a few times he's had Haru's heart stopped by beautiful sentiment spoken like poetry. Haru's brain strays to all the times Makoto has said the words 'I love you' to Haru. All in times of deep emotion and intimacy, but probably platonic. Considering the situations, considering how Makoto spoke the words with a smile and asked for nothing back, it must have been platonic. If Makoto loved Haru as anything but a friend, he would know. Even Makoto is likely to be selfish about love.

Haru's head sinks with his heart beneath the surface of the water. Looking up through the distortion, he wonders if he'll always be separated by this barrier, rippling in front of him, barring him from being able to have what he wants. There's always something in the way.

He lets a breath out through his nose, watching the bubbles rise to the surface and burst. Like his hope.

If only he hadn't been curious. If he hadn't wondered what he was. He should have stayed broken. It's better than being hopeless. If only he hadn't searched those words, found those pages, found _himself_ -

If only he'd left that phone at home, like he usually does.

The realisation hits him.

Bursting out from the water, Haru coughs and sputters, breathing heavily. How long had he been underwater? Actually, that wasn't important. What's important is how long is he going to let his phone sit, unprotected, in Makoto's room, screen showing his secrets.

In all his life, there have been very few things which Haru has wanted to keep from Makoto. This is one of them.

He doesn't even have the patience to sit in the bath any longer, even though he knows there's a chance Makoto has already looked at his phone. Intuition tells him Makoto would never look without permission, but there's always the chance of an honest mistake leading him to read whatever's on the screen. Haru can't take any chances.

In record timing, Haru is out of the bath, dried and dressed, pulling on his favourite of Makoto's shirts - the orange and yellow one, it's comfortable and roomy - and out the door, rushing back to Makoto's room as fast as his generally calm persona will allow himself to be.

He opens the door more loudly than he'd like.

"Haru?" Makoto looks up, eyes wide. His eyebrows turn inward. "What's wrong?"

Not replying, Haru looks around Makoto and sees his phone where he left it, on the bed, closed.

_‘He might not have looked,’_ he thinks, allowing his breathing to calm. But his mind, his greatest enemy, whispers to him.

_‘He could have put it back carefully. Didn't you leave it open?’_

Haru can't remember.

Suddenly, Makoto is standing, closer than Haru expects. "Haru, are you okay? What's wrong?"

He blinks, as though walking out of a dark theatre into the light. Is this what facing reality is like?

"I'm fine," he says quietly.

"You're not," says Makoto in tandem with Haru's conscience. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay."

There it is, the always-selfless Makoto. He doesn't demand an explanation, allows Haru the space to let the subject die if he wants it to. And a large part of him does want it to.

But there's one part of him which wants it to be known.

Haru looks over to his phone pointedly.

Makoto looks over his shoulder at it. "Your phone?"

With Makoto meeting Haru's eyes, he tries to ask the question without speaking the words he doesn't want to say. Accusing Makoto is inconceivable. It's not something natural, not something he ever wants to do.

"You left it open," Makoto says. "I closed it to save the battery. Were you worried about it?" The words come out as though Makoto doesn't believe them, either.

"Did you read it?" Haru asks, hating himself for every word.

He hears Makoto's intake of breath and a stab goes through his stomach. _He did._

"I didn't mean to," Makoto says. "I only saw what was on that part of the screen. I didn't scroll at all. I didn't want to invade your privacy."

Haru, not replying, walks over to the bed and picks up his phone. Sure enough, upon opening it, it's on the same paragraph where is was before.

Steeling himself, he forces the words which he has never said, the question he's never asked, to come out.

"Have you ever had a crush?"

Quietly, reluctantly, and almost afraid, Makoto says his name. "H-Haru?"

"The models in those magazines the boys in our class read," Haru continues, "did you have a favourite?"

"Haru, what are you-"

"Do you ever think about that kind of thing?"

Looking at Makoto, Haru sees the panic in Makoto's eyes and hates himself for causing it. But this is a conversation they have to have.

"Please. I want to know."

Makoto's eyes widen for a second, shocked by the unusual display of emotion. Then, a moment later, they are shadowed, looking down.

"I have."

Haru doesn't speak.

Makoto continues. "I have thought about that kind of thing. I've had crushes. I didn't exactly have a favourite model, though."

Part of Haru's heart breaks. He can't believe he didn't know Makoto had a crush. Or multiple crushes.

"It's not something I like to talk about," Makoto says offhandedly, his eyes averting to the side.

"I won't force you to talk about it," Haru says, feeling worse knowing this. He doesn't want Makoto to feel uncomfortable.

But he shakes his head. "You need to know. I didn't really like talking about it because sometimes it made me uncomfortable. My parents said that love is supposed to be special and cherished. I felt like looking at models and talking about that kind of thing was wrong. And the crushes I had were always on people I know. There's only been a few, though."

"People?"

Makoto's shoulders hunch a little and he draws into himself. "Yeah. Both girls and boys."

Ah.

Now Haru thinks about it, it makes sense.

"I always feel like my parents would hate me, but I don't really care what gender a person is," Makoto says. "It's more about the person themselves, right? About how they act. Their personality."

Makoto's parents would never hate him, Haru thinks, but he can't be sure. In a society like theirs, especially in such a rural town, it was possible that they would.

Since Makoto says no more, Haru takes the chance to ask the burning question. "Do you have a crush now?"

A moment passes. Haru's hopes hang in the air.

Makoto nods.

Haru feels his hopes sink. If Makoto has a crush, it surely wouldn't be Haru, anyway. Even if he likes people regardless of gender. There's no way Makoto would like him.

"Haru," Makoto says quietly. "Can I ask you the same thing?"

Haru is silent for a moment. He wonders what to say, then realises that Makoto won't judge him anyway. He is too selfless, too kind for that.

"Makoto," Haru starts. "What did you read on my phone?"

"I can't remember most of it," Makoto says. "Something with the word 'asexual'."

"It means not feeling sexual attraction to anyone of any gender," Haru says.

Silence.

"Are you...?"

Haru nods.

"So you don't..."

"It's complicated." Haru goes on to explain the two types of attraction, and his own romantic orientation.

After the explanation, Haru's energy is almost depleted with talking so much. Still, Makoto has more questions to ask.

"So you do get crushes, just not sexual attraction."

"Yeah."

"And your crushes are only on people you're close to emotionally?"

"Yeah."

Makoto is silent for a moment, then tentatively asks, "Do you...?"

This is where Haru feels like he is on a precipice, and his answer could tip him over the edge.

"I don't want you to hate me."

"I could never hate you, Haru."

The worst thing is how genuine those words are from Makoto's mouth. How gently he smiles as he speaks them.

Haru takes a deep breath.

"I like you, Makoto."

Into the abyss he tumbles.

"...me?"

"Yeah."

Silence.

He's a fool, why did he do this, even though Makoto said he wouldn't hate him, how can Haru have been such a fool, of course Makoto doesn't feel the same-

Then, a hand reaches out to grab him.

"Me too."

Haru looks up.

Makoto's eyes glisten with emotion, his smile growing, held closed as though trying to stop emotions flowing out.

"I like you too, Haru."

"But..." Haru can hardly find words. He's too amazed by the idea that Makoto could possibly like him back.

"The whole sex thing doesn't matter to me," Makoto says. "Sex is overrated, anyway. I would happily spend a million years just sitting beside you, Haru."

A moment later, he blushes, as though realising how sappy his words sound.

Haru feels himself blush too, but the lump of happiness rising in his throat makes him care more about literally everything else going on in this moment.

"Makoto," Haru says, "I love you so much."

Makoto doesn't need to speak his reply - it's written in his eyes, signed in his smile. Still, he says, "I love you too, Haru."

Maybe Haru is different. Maybe something is wrong with Haru. He definitely isn't like everyone else, isn't what society wants him to be. But in this moment, and for the rest of his life, he knows that it doesn't matter. After all, he has someone who loves him, who he loves with all his heart, and there's nothing else he could ask for.

(Except maybe an underwater wedding. That would be amazing.)

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me at [randomactuallywrites-57](http://randomactuallywrites-57.tumblr.com) on tumblr | [@randomwriter57](http://twitter.com/randomwriter57) on twitter!


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